Like Mother, Like Daughter
by PrincessDaydream77
Summary: Each chapter is a one-shot about Cora's relationship with her daughter, Sybil. Set from pre-Series One until Series Three.
1. Sybil Poppiella Crawley

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Summary: A series of one-shots involving Cora's relationship with her youngest daughter, Sybil. Set from pre-Series One until Series Three.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, except the pre-series one storylines and the thoughts of the characters.

1896

She was the most perfect thing that Cora Crawley had ever seen. True, Mary was a beautiful baby, but even then, she had a temper to rival even her Granny. And Edith, although also pretty, was not as beautiful as Mary and had a tendancy to want the limelight for herself. But the little baby wriggling sleepily in her arms, she was perfect. She had soft brown curls already, even though she was only a couple of weeks old and had the most adorable little gurgle that even Violet found endearing. She didn't even cry, except when she was ill. Just after her birth, the little girl had become extremely ill, but in all the panic and worry, they'd forgotten to name the child! Now, after her recovery, the little family of Downton Abbey was arguing over what to call the child. It was only when the noise had woken her then sleeping baby that Cora finally found her voice.

"Enough!" yelled Cora, as her baby girl screamed.

Silence fell over the room. Mary and Edith looked guiltily at each other and went to sit, one on each of their father's knees, who had walked rather sheepishly to the chair at Cora's bedside.

"Now,..." Cora continued, "I think that my family should help decide on the name for my baby. So..." She turned to her eldest daughter. "Mary, dear, what's your favourite name?"

"I don't have a favourite name, Mama, but I do have a special name in my head." replied the nine-year-old girl sitting on her father's left knee.

"And what's that, sweetie?"

"It's the name of my puppy, at Aunt Rosamund's house, she had a puppy. Anyway, the puppy, she died. Edith killed her." said Mary, glaring at her sister.

"I told you that it was an accident and I didn't kill her." retorted the seven-year-old.

"You locked her in the playhouse, without food or water."

"I was three. I didn't know what I was doing, you shouldn't have asked me to dog-sit."

"Alright, girls, let your mother get a word in edgeways." stated Robert.

"Thank you, darling. Now, what was your special name?"

"Poppy."

"Well, darling, that's a lovely name, but I'm not sure it's quite formal enough for a Lady. What's your favourite name, Edith, darling?"

"My favourite name is Ella, Mummy."

"Mummy?! You're seven? Grow up, Edith!"

"Mary, don't be so cruel. I'll use both your names as a middle name. Alright?"

"But Mama, what will her forename be, then?"

"Let's ask Papa, shall we?" Cora looked over at Robert, hoping for him to have an answer. Robert, in answer, walked towards the bed and perched himself on the edge, carefully taking the little baby in his arms, before chuckling and rolling his eyes at the sight of Mary and Edith squabbling to claim the last chair in the room.

"I don't know about you, but I'm finding something very strange when I look at her. She looks exactly like one of Rosamund's old dolls, from when she was a child. Brown curls, blue eyes, looks quite polite and demour. She wouldn't be parted from it."

"What did she call it?"

"Sybilia."

"Well, we can't use that. Hold on, that's it! Sybil!"

"I love it!" yelled Mary and Edith in unison.

"As do I." exclaimed Robert, pulling his wife close as she took the baby in her arms. As Mary and Edith jumped into their arms, Cora realised this was what she wanted. Her husband, Robert, beside her, Mary and Edith wrapped around them and her perfect little baby, Sybil, nuzzling into her chest. Her Sybil.


	2. First Steps to Womanhood

1897

Cora strolled into the grounds as usual. She did this for two reasons; the first, because the house can become stifling if one did not occasionally get out into the grounds, the second, to keep an eye on the two girls, especially if they had Sybil with them. As Cora deepened her thought, she saw Mary and Edith run around, trying to catch each other, Edith being given an unfair advantage, due to the fact that Sybil was being precariously supported on Mary's hip. Tired of being jeered at, Cora saw Mary place Sybil on the ground and leave her there, chasing Edith across the gardens and out of sight. After fifteen minutes of waiting for the girls to come back, Cora saw Robert leave the doors and see her, making his way over. Giving the impression that she hadn't seen him, she half walked, half ran toward Sybil, she saw her daughter recognise her and get up onto her feet to stagger a few steps toward her before being swept up in her mother's arms in shock and delight. As Robert reached them, Cora was crying tears of pure delight.

"What's the matter? Cora?" asked Robert, soundly equally worried and puzzled.

"She saw me coming and she walked towards me. Her first steps, Robert!" cried Cora, her voice barely recognisable between the tears of joy streaming down her face.

"Oh!" Robert swept up his daughter in his arms. "My little Sybil! I knew you could do it, darling!"

"Wuv Ooo, Daddy. Wuv Ooo, Mummy." said the clearly proud toddler, playing with the teddy bear she was clutching lazily in her left hand.

As Cora watched her, she knew that she'd be the one to grow up and make something of herself, as she'd once wanted to do. I hope she does, thought Cora, make me proud, Sybil.


	3. My Little Angel

1899

The day of the Christmas nativity had come. The servants were running around downstairs getting His Lordship and Her Ladyship's best Christmas clothes ready for the performance, while also getting the costumes ready for Lady Edith and Lady Sybil, who were taking starring roles in the play, Edith playing a narrator and Sybil playing the angel Gabriel. Mary had refused to dress up and act like a child, but had agreed to perform a bible reading at the end of the performance, as she thought this was 'so much more grown up'. As the two younger Crawley's waited in the wings, Robert, Cora, Mary, Violet and Rosamund (who had come down from London especially for the occasion) took their reserved seats in the very front row.

The time had come. Edith had performed her part brilliantly and went behind the curtains until the end, which meant that it was Sybil's turn, as the young girl had refused to perform if she wasn't cued by her sister's narration. While Edith was speaking, Sybil had rushed up to the rafters with her Sunday School tutor, Mrs Greenway and had been secured by a wire safely to the rafter beams. Now was the hardest part of all.

The Crawley family waited worriedly. What had happened to Sybil? Then, a spotlight was shone onto the rafters, causing everyone to look up. As Cora looked up, she gasped in fright and buried her head into Robert's chest, unable to watch, while he stroked her hair and told her that everything would be alright. Robert also reached out and took Mary's hand, whom he could see was shaking in fear. Her shaking became worse when Sybil jumped, but her gasp of fright soon turned to one of joy and pride. Cora, hearing this, looked up to see Sybil gliding over the audience on a wire, before landing on the stage. She lost her balance when she landed, but hid the fact well by turning a perfect pirouette, before beginning to say her lines. Cora didn't think she'd ever been prouder or ever could be, but she would be proved wrong in time.


	4. Twinkle Twinkle Little Swan

1901

The three Crawley daughters were sitting at the piano in the drawing room, fourteen-year-old Mary trying to play the complex piece of music on the sheets in front of her and failing drastically, which lead to her throwing down the sheets and sitting heavily down on the settee, crossing her arms and sighing. She sighed even more when twelve-year-old Edith climbed onto the stool and played the sheet music, 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' perfectly at her first attempt. When she climbed off the stool, looking smugly towards Mary, Sybil hauled herself up onto the high stool, picked up the sheet music and put it to one side, revealing the devillishly hard 'Swan Lake' in it's place. Mary looked proud and Edith still looked smug, commenting that she was the best pianist in the house by far and that Sybil had no chance, when she'd never even sat at a piano before. That look was wiped off Edith's face immediately when Sybil began to play. They were so transfixed by her that no-one noticed Cora and Robert enter the room, a look of shock and love on their faces. When Sybil finished, she was met with a large round of applause and a sweeping hug from her mother.

"Sybil, I am so proud of you."


	5. Yuletide Fairytale

1904

"MAMA, MAMA, MAMA, IT'S CHRISTMAS!" yelled Sybil, as she and her sisters hurtled into their parent's bedroom and jumped onto their bed. When their parents awoke, Mary and Edith left the bed, but Sybil snuggled in between her parents, refusing to move. Her sisters decided to do the same, climbing over their parents to join their little sister cocooned in between Cora and Robert.

Then each of the three girls proceded to drag their parents downstairs between them, Mary hanging onto her father's left hand, Edith hanging onto her mother's right and Sybil inbetween them, giggling a little as she was swung off the ground by her arms.

When they got downstairs, the girls all sat patiently underneath, waiting for their parents. When Robert and Cora sat down with them, they started the tradition of eldest to youngest, meaning Mary started to open her presents, then Edith after her. When Edith took a long time deciding which present to open first, Sybil began to get restless.

"Come on, Edith!" whined Sybil, impatiently.

Edith immediately started to tear open all the presents at once, leaving a massive pile of torn paper on the floor, which she and Mary had to immediately start folding. It was then Sybil's turn. She peeled off the silver paper on each present to reveal two porcelain dolls, a silver hairbrush, a golden bracelet with seven charms on it and a large book of fairytales, which was enscribed in a delicate hand with the words 'To my princess Sybil, may all your dreams come true, lots of love Mama x'.

"Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Mary and Edith. I love all of my presents."

"That's alright, darling. And I'll read it to you whenever you want, alright?"

"Thank you, Mama. Can you read one to us now?"

"Of course I can."

Cora sat down on the settee next to Robert, who put his arm around her. Mary and Edith climbed onto the seat either side of their parents, while Robert pulled Sybil onto his lap, smiling when the small child nuzzled into his shoulder, listening as their mother began to speak.

"Once upon a time, there was a young girl..."

A/N : I know that Sybil probably would have had more presents than that, but I wanted to give her five. The dolls are one each from Mary and Edith, the hairbrush is from the Dowager, the bracelet is from Robert and the book is from Cora. Also, soz about the lack of updates, I'm trying to write more on everything, but I got major writer's block plus exams equals NO TIME TO DO ANYTHING!


	6. Piercing Screams

1906

"Come on, Sybil! Hurry up!"

"Patrick, slow down! I'll trip over my dress, stop!"

Patrick and Sybil had managed to evade Mary and Edith and run all the way down to the old pier near the Crawley family holiday home in Cornwall.

"Come on, Sybil!" whined Patrick, running to the chained pier gates and beginning to move the debris in front of it.

"Patrick, no, we can't go in there, it's chained off for a reason. It's not safe!"

"It'll be fine, Sybil. Trust me."

Trusting her elder cousin's judgement, Sybil squeezed through the gap after him. She gasped in shock when she saw him run right to the gate, which she knew was unsafe. She ran after him and tried to pull him away. He threw her off and she tumbled headfirst over the gate.

"SYBIL!" screamed Patrick, rushing to the edge of the pier to see his youngest cousin hanging on to the very narrow ledge underneath it.

"PATRICK, HELP!" screamed Sybil, wriggling and fidgeting in fear.

"HOLD ON, DON'T MOVE! I'M GOING TO GET HELP!" he yelled, running off the pier towards the holiday home where his father, uncle and aunt were.

When he reached it, he burst through the door and started pulling his uncle out of it.

"Patrick, what has happened, m'boy?" asked Robert.

"We went onto the pier because we wanted to see the sea and I ran to the gate and she tried to pull me back, but I pushed her away from me and she fell over the barrier!"

"Who did?"

"Sybil!"

The urgency surged through him as Robert increased his pace to a frenzied sprint, not stopping until he reached the pier's edge.

He reached down and began to pull up his baby girl. Whenever her hand slipped, he pulled her with more force. He kept pulling until she was safely onto the pier, at which point Cora came hurtling out of nowhere, wrapped a thick blanket around Sybil's shoulders and insisted on carrying her all the way home, worrying about the scolding fever that had developed on her daughter's head.

For the next five weeks, Cora spent all day and a large majority of the night nursing her daughter, willing her to wake up and smile at her. Every night, she read her a fairytale, but she never awoke.

"'Then all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the wolf's skin and went home with it. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine which Red-Cap had brought, and revived, but Red-Cap thought to herself : 'As long as I live, I will never leave by myself the path to run into the wood, when my mother has forbidden me to do so.'"

Cora closed the book, laid it gently on the bedside table and headed for the door. It was not until the heavy wood clicked against the frame that the American realised that Red-Cap's words had not been recited by one voice, but by two. Hurtling back into the room, Cora was delighted to see that Sybil was clutching a stuffed bear and sitting up, contentedly turning the illustrated pages of the collection of magical tales. Cora ran to her side and embraced her with such a force that the young girl dropped both the book and the bear to the floor. When they broke apart, both their faces were wet with tears.

"Mama?" questioned Sybil.

"Yes, darling?"

"We live happily ever after, don't we?"

"Of course, darling. We're a fairytale come true."

A/N : The story, I copied from my book 'Grimm's Fairytales', which I think was written by 1906, but if it wasn't, can we please pretend that it was. Please review!


	7. The Blood of the Letterknife

1909

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated for so long, I've had really bad writer's block and loads of other stories. I've also been slightly depressed as of recent events in Downton, involving my favourite character. Thanks to my reviewers, my best friend, headinclouds123, bijou156, annieodair, and GranthamGal. You rock!

On a cold, frozen winter's day, Cora and Robert were sat in front of a roaring fire in their bedroom, her head leaned onto his shoulder and his arm wrapped rather loosely around her waist.

"It's quite strange, isn't it, darling?" began Cora, turning slightly to look at her husband.

"What is?" he replied.

"The quiet of it all. Mary is at Rosamund's for the week, Edith is with your mother and Sybil is tucked up quietly in her bedroom." sighed Cora.

"Do you think that she is alright, Cora? Only we haven't seen hide or hair of her all evening and she is never usually this quiet."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll leave her for a little while, in case she's fallen asleep, but if she's still so reserved at breakfast tomorrow, I'll ask her."

"Alright. Good night, darling." sighed Robert, kissing his wife on the cheek before leading her to their bed, where she rested her head on his chest as they both fell fast asleep.

Breakfast was relatively quiet the next morning, with only Robert, Edith and Sybil at the table. Edith was chatting away no end to her father about her stay with 'dear Granny', the man nodding and smiling at all the right points in the speech, while casting more than one worried glance in Sybil's direction, watching as she picked silently at a small fruit salad. Finally, Robert decided to confront the girl about it.

"Sybil, my dear, are you alright?" asked Robert, reaching out to gently pat his youngest daughter's hand.

"I'm fine, Papa." she simply replied. Robert nodded and, a few moments later, left the table. A pile of letters was left untouched in the middle of the table. Both girls caught sight of the handwriting on the topmost letter.

"Aunt Rosamund." they stated in unison. Edith looked uncertainly at the pile, but Sybil was not so conflicted. She tipped the remaining letters off of the tray and picked it up, carrying letter, knife and tray from the room in a hurry.

"Sybil, wait!" cried Edith, rising from her seat far too late to stop her younger sister, who was already halfway up the staircase. Still, feeling a duty to stop Sybil before she got herself into trouble, Edith ran up the stairs after her. Naturally, it took her a lot longer to get up there than it did Sybil, as she seemed to have the replenishable energy of a young gazelle, so that once she got up, the door was firmly shut and locked.

"Sybil? Sybil, come out here this instant, you're going to get yourself in such trouble." pleaded Edith, knocking the door repeatedly.

On the other side of the pure white wood, Sybil had heard Edith's pleading and had got up from her position on the edge of her bed, all set to open the door and replace the letter on its pile on the table. However, the ribbon of the youngest Crawley's housecoat was trailing across the floor, as the girl had been too tired to put it away and had locked the door before the maids came in. Sybil's foot caught on it and she fell face first down onto the floor, taking the tray and its contents to the floor with her with a crash.

Edith heard this from the other side of the door and began to knock the door far more frantically.

"Sybil?! Sybil, open the door this instant! Sybil! Are you alright?! Sybil!" Edith cried, her voice matching the terror she felt within her. The final word was almost screamed, before the elder girl ran down the corridor, no other possible ideas forming in her terror-stricken mind, knocking even more frantically on the door of the room she found there.

"Mama, Mama, I need you! Mama!" she cried, almost hitting her mother with the hand she was using to knock the door when the American woman flung the door open quickly.

"Edith, what is the matter?!" asked Cora loudly, the pitch of her voice raised half out of concern and half from anger at the scene Edith was making.

"It's Sybil, Mama! She took the letter tray upstairs with her and locked her door. I tried to get her to come out, but then there was a thumping noise and a crash and now she won't answer!" sobbed the girl, her words merging together at the ends, though her mother clearly understood her and near sprinted down the corridor, hammering at her youngest daughter's bedroom door with a great amount of urgency.

"Sybil? Sybil, it's Mama. If you can hear me, open the door. Sybil?!" Cora turned and addressed her other daughter. "Edith, run downstairs and fetch Mrs. Hughes, tell her to bring the spare key to Lady Sybil's bedroom. Hurry, Edith, run!" she cried, causing Edith to jump and bolt for the staircase.

Half dozen minutes later, the housekeeper arrived, her cheeks bright red due to the speed she had run at. She produced the key and Cora jammed it into the lock, turning it and crying out at the sight she saw.

Sybil was lying on the floor, the letter tray beside her, the knife covered in fresh blood. That drew Cora's attention to the gash at Sybil's side, where the knife had torn through the fabric and through the flesh below just as easily, leaving a bright red wound in the young girl's waist.

"Mrs. Hughes, call Dr. Clarkson, tell him that it's urgent and that Lady Sybil is badly injured. Edith, go and find your father, tell him to come up here at once, same reason." Both left the room to accomplish their tasks, leaving Lady Grantham to collapse to the floor beside Sybil, taking part of her own dress and using it to stem the bloodflow a little.

"Don't worry, darling. Help is on its way. Everything will be alright, just stay strong for me. Mama's here, darling, never fear. Everything will be alright."

Dr. Clarkson had arrived eventually, stitching the wound in no time, so as to give it the best chance of healing, though it involved a lot of pain for the young girl, who clutched her mother's hand so tightly that it turned a peculiar white colour, from the lack of blood reaching it. He had bandaged it afterwards, saying that the girl should leave the bandage on for a day or two, then take it off and let the wound heal itself alone.

Nonetheless, Sybil was still having trouble sleeping and every time she turned or flinched, she winced in pain and clutched at the bandage, causing her even more pain. Cora had stayed to try and help her through it, holding her hand and reading her stories. Finally, as the fifth tale from the book came to an end, Sybil fell into a deep sleep. She slept all night and well into the morning and, though she had eventually slept herself as well, Cora did not let go of her hand for a moment.

A/N: Again, apologies for the wait. Hope the chapter was worth it, but please review to tell me.


	8. Staying Afloat

1912

A/N: Thanks to , MelodyOfSong and NaomiBlue for being great reviewers.

Sybil had awoken early in the morning, as she always seemed to do. For some reason, she had felt completely uneasy as she opened her eyes, as if something terribly bad had happened. There was just that sense, that atmosphere hanging in the air that the young woman always felt just before something went horribly wrong. And she had never once to this day been incorrect. Tragically, today's feeling was not about to break that streak. It was just about to make it much more real.

Due to this feeling, she decided to rise promptly, thinking it to be the only way to discover the source of her feeling and so was dressed and downstairs within the half hour.

The house, to her discomfort, was rather more quiet than it was normally. On a regular day, Downton Abbey would be filled with the talk of the family, gossip from the housemaids, the bustling of servants and the barks of Pharaoh, His Lordship's golden Labrador. But none were present. Merely silence. Something which, in that particular household, could never be good.

No longer able to stand the suspense eating her up inside, Sybil returned upstairs and was soon approaching the door of her mother's bedroom. She knocked quietly, still quite unsure whether or not she should disturb the woman when she may still be sleeping. Luckily, her reply was in the affirmative and she entered the room.

Her mother was reclined on the bed in her nightgown, her pillows propping up behind her and the latest edition of the _Daily Sketch_ clutched in her hand.

"I just can't believe it, darling, can you?" Cora asked, reaching out to pat her daughter on the arm as she sat herself down upon the edge of the bed. Sybil did not hear her. She was too busy staring at the article on the very front page. The one headline she would never have expected to see.

_R.M.S. TITANIC SINKS_

"I wish that I couldn't." Sybil breathed. "But it's right here in black and white. I suppose there's no denying it."

"No, I suppose not." Cora agreed, the sadness in her voice to do so evident.

"All those poor people, taken by the sea. It's awful to think of all those people, having such a nice time, such an experience, then it just being snatched away from them. All of them, men and women, adults and children. Just dead." Sybil mused, her tone distant and laced with teardrops.

"God rest their souls, all of them."

"Yes." Sybil finished, still no less distant, even as she agreed directly with her mother. They remained silent for quite a while, before Cora leant over and wrapped one arm around Sybil, pulling her to lie down by her side, like she had used to do when her daughter was still a child. The younger brunette stiffened for a moment, unsure of whether she should accept the embrace. She was an adult, after all. But the child in her came out and she sank into her mother's arms, resting her forehead on the woman's silk covered shoulder as she began to cry.

"Cousin James and Cousin Patrick were on the ship, weren't they? I just know that they were." Sybil sobbed. Cora gasped when she heard her daughter speak the secret she had only known for about an hour. She was going to answer her, to tell her that she was correct, but decided against doing so. It would do no good, after all. Sybil was far beyond telling, she knew that she was correct, and all she needed now was her mother's comfort, her mother's love.

Knowing this, Cora pulled her daughter closer to her chest, allowing her to cry out all her tears, not caring that her nightdress was becoming utterly sodden from them.

"Ssh, darling. It's alright. Oh my darling, I am so sorry." Cora told her baby, holding her close and stroking her hair as she cried, tears of her own falling as she saw her daughter so distressed. It was almost twenty full minutes before Sybil had calmed enough to speak.

"It just isn't fair, Mama. Cousin James was around Papa's age, and Cousin Patrick was on a couple of years older than Mary at most. They don't seem old enough to be gone. And there must have been people on the ship younger than them, children even, that would never see another sunrise. And they didn't know until it was too late." A few tears slipped down Sybil's cheeks, but her phase of hysteria had passed.

"I know, darling, but we need to move on from this." She pulled Sybil away from her chest as she spoke, so she could look her in the eye. "Think of Cousin James, he never caused you a moment's pain before. And what about Cousin Patrick? Do you really think that he would want you to spend the rest of your life mourning how he never lived his?" Cora questioned, pausing slightly with every few words to ensure that she was convincing her daughter. It seemed she was, as the tearful young woman was nodding.

"No. Of course not. He'd want me to move on." the younger brunette agreed, blinking the tears from her eyes with a shuddering sigh.

"He'd want all of us to. And, in time, we will." Cora finished, pulling her back to her side and stroking her hair once more.

In time, Sybil truly would move on, as would the rest of the family. She would allow herself to put James and Patrick Crawley to the back of her mind, to accept that they lived only in her memories. However, she would never forget the pair. She would always remember them as they were.

Through the remainder of her life, Sybil kept her mind on the promise she had made to a man that could no longer hear her. She had promised that she would live her life to the full, to live her life for him.

And if there was one thing Sybil Poppiella Crawley did not do, it was break her promises.

A/N: Aw! Not completely Cora and Sybil at the end of this chapter, but I thought it had to be said. Thank you and please review!


	9. Breaking Away

1914

A/N: Thanks NaomiBlue and MelodyofSong526, for reviewing the last chapter.

As much as Sybil knew that her mother loved having her around, she couldn't help but feel just a little bored sometimes, sitting at home, day after day, with not a bit of input in the outside world. It was beginning to drive the girl mad.

She wanted some adventure, some purpose in her life, not just to sit around and embroider handkerchiefs all day, talking about little other than the weather and minor family affairs. She wanted to have an impact on the country. She wanted to truly live her life.

That was why, when she had heard of the party speeches being made in Ripon, she made the decision that would alter her view on life. She was going to attend.

She had been discussing the matter with Branson, the family's new chauffeur, every time that she was alone in the car with the man, who shared her views on the political scene. Her mother would have been absolutely horrified, had she seen the almost informal conversations the pair had often shared. '_Perhaps_…' Sybil thought, her mind hesitating even as she did. '_Perhaps that is part of the reason I do it. Simply for the thrill._'

The man, for some reason that she couldn't put her finger on, seemed very reluctant to drive her to Ripon. It was not because he was fearful of the danger himself, as he had admitted that he would have attended alone in any case, but for some other reason. If anything, he seemed to be more fearful for her.

Unfortunately for the man, and for her mother, nothing was going to deter Sybil from doing what she wished to do. Anyone who had known the young woman since her early years would know that she was unmovable once she had made a decision, and that fact was not about to change.

That was why the young Lady stood outside of the Ripon City Hall, looking up at the magnificent stonework of the building, and listening intently to the even more magnificent speeches coming from within. It was a marvellous atmosphere to be in, and she was finally here.

Someone who would evidently rather be anywhere other than here was standing directly behind her, leaning on the door of the car he had driven them in. It had not been Tom Branson's intentions to bring the youngest daughter of the house to what could potentially turn into a riot, merely to bring her for a dress fitting with Mrs. Crawley, but it seemed that both women had hoodwinked him to attend the event. He evidently had more than enough remaining to learn about the English women.

Sybil meanwhile, having seen the family's chauffeur deep in thought, had taken her chance to escape with Cousin Isobel, and was now standing right in the middle of the crowds. In truth, she was a little fearful, seeing that the crowd was becoming a little riled with all the action, but would not leave for the world. '_This may well be the only chance I ever get to do this_.' Sybil thought. '_I want it to last for as long as possible._'

The very atmosphere was extraordinary for a girl who had led a sheltered, first class life, and she had loved every single moment of it, though those moments had been very few. The buzz that came from the crowd was incredible, the noise was deafening, and Sybil finally felt that she had a point to prove. And she was absolutely determined to do so.

Branson, on the other hand, seemed determined to prevent that from happening, and was hurtling through the massive crowds in an attempt to locate his charge.

Luckily for the man, who had grown a little fearful for his job, and potentially for his health, should Lord Grantham find out, he spotted Lady Sybil in a matter of seconds.

"Milady!" the man exclaimed, straining his voice to make it heard over the roars of the crowds. "Milady! It looks like it's getting a bit nasty down there now. I think it's best if we leave."

"Oh, but Branson, the speeches have barely started. We can't go now, it would defeat the whole object of coming here in the first place." Sybil responded, more than a hint of a whine in her voice as she pouted slightly, something that would have been quite comical to Tom, had he not been trying to persuade her of his point of view.

"Still, I think it might be time to call it a day, milady." Tom suggested, trying desperately not to sound as if he were begging. Though he may not have succeeded with that, as the woman had raised her eyebrows a fair amount, he did eventually succeed in his task, as Mrs. Crawley had approached to join the fight.

"Sybil, I think Branson may be right. It is wonderful that you're here, and it is a fantastic opportunity for you to have had, but we are putting the poor man's career at risk, and I doubt he would be thrilled about being fired for bringing you home concussed. Now, off we go."

"Alright." Sybil conceded, much to the chauffeur's surprise. "I suppose we ought to go." 

Half an hour later, the two occupants of Downton Abbey, Mrs. Crawley having returned to her own home, were sat in the car, approximately two minutes away from arriving back at the house.

They had remained in silence for ten minutes now, ever since they had finished formulating their story to explain their absence. They had pretended that Sybil had been at a meeting of one of the charities she supported, to protect funds of the village school. In truth, she had been, but it had ended two hours previously.

When they pulled up to the house, the youngest Crawley broke the silence.

"Branson?" she questioned, albeit in a very quiet voice.

"Yes, milady?" he responded. The woman opened her mouth, but then closed it immediately, as if she had wanted to say something, but had thought better of it.

"Thank you." was all she eventually said, before turning and entering the house, closing the door softly behind her.

'_It seems that the speeches were not the only firsts today.'_

A/N: I know there's a lack of Cora, but she will be back in the next one. Please review, as always.


	10. The End of a Childhood

1914

A/N: Thank you to NaomiBlue and MelodyofSong526 for reviewing.

The day had come at last, the one that the Crawleys had been preparing for for sixteen years. It was time for young Sybil Crawley to come of age.

Despite the fact that both her elder sisters had been presented to the court in the recent seasons, the young woman did not have a clue as to how the things would proceed, as she had not been in attendance at their presentations, having been ill on both occasions and therefore forced to miss the London season altogether.

That, to some extent, was the reason that all three other women of the household had been lecturing her on etiquette for months on end, and the reason that Sybil was bored out of her skull of it. Tonight was less a presentation for her than a release.

Still, all pretences aside, there were some elements of the celebrations that Sybil was not averse to, such as the beautiful gown her mother had purchased especially for the occasion. At first, the woman had not wished to be made a fuss of, but the moment she had laid eyes on the garment, she had put that thought to the side. For this reason, she may have been considered hypocritical by many, but the majority of them were ignorant as to just how stunning the gown had been.

With close fitting sleeves cutting off at the wrists and a long, flowing skirt, all in a stunning shade of cobalt blue, Sybil had truly never seen a more beautiful dress in all of her life. Accompanied by the orchid flower on the white woven belt and a matching headdress woven into her brunette locks, the young woman truly felt for the first time that she was what she had been all her life, what she had been born to be. A Lady.

"Sybil?" came a soft voice from the doorway. The young girl recognised it instantly, having heard the same one every day of her life.

"Come in, Mama." she responded, beckoning her hand towards the doorway, but not turning, as she was still engrossed in the book she had been reading to pass the time. However, the soft click from across the room told her that her mother had done as she was invited to do.

"_Grimm's Fairytales_?" the woman questioned, her voice showing obvious surprise as she read aloud the title of Sybil's book. "All those years since I bought that for you, and you are still reading it?"

"I guess that I've become a little nostalgic over the past few days. After all, if I am to become an adult tonight, I should have the right to live as a child for as long as I can do." Sybil responded, her voice reflecting the smile across her face.

"Quite right, my darling." Cora told her daughter, crossing the room and bending down to place a firm kiss on her daughter's forehead, by way of reassurance. Sybil may not have told of her nerves for the night ahead, but the American was her mother, and knew her all three of her daughters by heart. "There's no need to be nervous, Sybil."

"I'm not!" the young woman exclaimed, indignantly turning her head away. Within a moment, she returned her gaze to her mother's, a sheepish smile becoming plain on her face. "Well, perhaps I am, just a little."

"I know you are. I've known you for too long not to. And I also know that you will be panicking inside, and that you will not let anyone see it, but it's alright. Because I am certain that tonight, you will be absolutely stunning, and you will take everyone's breath away." Cora told her daughter, the pride evident in her voice as she spoke to the young woman. "And do you know how I know this, Sybil?"

"No." the brunette replied, shaking her head a little as she waited for her mother to continue.

"I know this, because you are my daughter. You have made me proud every single day since you were born, and so have your sisters. I know that this won't ever change, for any of you. That is how I know you will be ready tonight, and how I know that you'll be a star. Because you always have done."

By the time her mother's speech was completed, tears of happiness were swimming in Sybil's eyes. The elder woman had never confessed her feelings so plainly, at least not in her youngest daughter's presence, and so the young woman was amazed at the amount of emotion she had shown.

"Thank you." Sybil could only manage to summon two words from her throat, as she still remained in the state of shock she had been in previously. She was very glad that her mother had said such things, not in a way that threatened the modesty the brunette had possessed since children, but since she had been so nervous over the past few hours, she had desperately needed the encouragement that her mother had provided her with. "I feel so much better now."

"Good. Because, my darling, you are going to show all of London the sweet, beautiful, caring girl that graces the halls of Downton every day. You are going to show them who you are."

Thirty minutes later, Sybil stood in a small room, in a compact room which stood at the top of a grand staircase. The words of advice her mother had given her were still ringing in her ears, and therefore she felt so much better about what was to come.

With a slight sigh, to quench the small amount of nerves that still remained, Sybil looked down at her dress. Anyone who knew the family would be certain that it had been chosen by Cora, and they would have been utterly correct. With its violet skirt, lace sleeves and amethyst adorned bodice, the dress was utterly stunning, and it gave the perfect impression to the waiting nobility.

Finally, as the doors were opened and her title was proclaimed across the ballroom, Sybil finally began to feel that she had been foolish to be fearful. As she descended the staircase, however, only a single thought remained in her mind, one that was highly encouraging for her.

'_Mama was right. I don't have to be a Lady. I just needed to be me.'_

A/N: Quite a sweet moment there. There will be one or two more chapters now set in 1914, and then I am moving on from that.


	11. Loss of an Heir

1914

A/N: Thank you, MelodyofSong526 and NaomiBlue, for reviewing.

Walking straight through the wide mahogany doors of Downton Abbey, Sybil had no objectives, other than the one thought on her mind.

The young woman had been away visiting a friend in Oxfordshire when she had received a telegram, telling her to return home immediately, as something had happened to her mother. She, of course, had done so, being extremely worried about the woman, and, three hours later, had arrived at her home.

'_I wonder what the matter with her is.'_ Sybil had thought for the majority of the journey. '_I wonder if something has happened with the baby. I do hope not.'_ There was no other way to find out than to go and see the woman.

When she finally reached her mother's bedroom door, after a good few minutes' walk, the brunette was more worried than ever. The house was practically silent, something strange for such a usually lively place. Even Pharaoh seemed to be rather down, laying in silence on the rug in the lounge, a strange feeling for the girl, who was used to the dog jumping about the place. It only added to her feeling that something was not right.

Taking a deep breath, Sybil raised her hand, rapping her knuckles three times on the door. At the quiet, almost non existant response she received, the young woman entered the room.

At first, the youngest Crawley could not see anything at all, as the curtains were drawn completely, allowing only small patterns of light to escape the window into the room. The shadows cast by the huge, ornate furniture took away even more of the light, leaving the room quite dark. The only thing truly visible was a figure lain down on the bed, shaking with the sobs that could hardly be heard from a few small feet away. Sybil needed no introduction to know who the figure was.

"Mama?" she questioned in a whisper, so as not to frighten the women, even though she must have already known she was present, as she had invited her into the room not one minute ago. "Mama, please speak to me. I know that you're awake, I just need to know that you're alright."

The woman gave no response, merely continued to cry. Seeing this, the brunette perched down on the edge of the bed, on the opposite side to the one that her mother was facing towards, so that she was able to make her own decision as to whether she wished to speak or not.

There they stayed for a good few minutes, the only sound audible in the room being the quiet sobbing of Cora that had still not ceased, and the heavy breathing of Sybil as she grew more worried about her mother and why she would not speak to her, when she had always been willing to speak to her before, and had almost daily sought her out to do so. Something must have been very wrong for that to have changed.

Finally, the young woman could stand it no longer, and laid a gentle hand on her mother's shoulder. The woman jumped at the contact, and Sybil felt guilt overwhelm her, but the feeling faded a little as the elder turned to face her nonetheless.

As she saw the condition her mother was in, the youngest daughter could not help but let out a gasp. Her eyes were swollen and a violent red, her cheeks were stained with the tears she had cried and she looked as if she had the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. '_What could have happened to make her behave like this?'_ the woman thought, becoming quite desperate for the answer.

"Oh, Mama." she breathed, her voice barely higher than a whisper as she felt tears begin to surface in her own eyes.

From what she could recall, Cora had always been a strong woman, the rock for the family to cling to when things took a turn for the worse. When Cousins James and Patrick had slipped beneath the waves with the _Titanic_, when her aunt had been killed, when the world around her had begun to fall apart, the woman had always been there to help pick up the pieces. Now, it was her who was broken.

"I didn't know." the woman in the bed spoke simply, her whispered voice wavering as it was punctuated by sobs so quiet that, had her shoulders not been so violently shaking, no one would have been able to tell they were there. "I didn't know what was going to happen, not until it was too late."

For just a moment, Sybil was not certain of what her mother was saying. It seemed as though she was speaking in riddles, as if even she herself was not sure of the words she spoke. Then she noticed the position her mother lay in, with both arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. It was only then that she realised, to her own anguish, what had occurred that day.

Her mother's stomach had flattened rather a lot, something that she was certain was not supposed to happen during pregnancy. Though she had never experienced the condition first hand, nor known any woman who was in it, while she was old enough to remember, Sybil was aware that, during pregnancy, the stomach was supposed to expand, never to contract, as Cora's had.

"Oh, Mama." the young woman sighed, reaching down onto the bed to wrap her arms around her mother, the reverse of a position that had been repeated many a time over the previous years. "Oh, my poor Mama. This is so terrible, but I'm here now. It will be alright."

Cora said nothing in response, though her daughter had by no means expected that she would. It had hit her hard as well, the loss of her younger brother, but for now, she needed to be there for her mother. Just as she always had been there for her.

A/N: Please review!


	12. Truths Accidentally Told

1914

A/N: Thank you to MelodyofSong526 for reviewing.

Over the past couple of days that had passed since the loss of her younger brother, a child that had remained unnamed out of the anguish of his parents, Sybil had found herself growing ever closer to the family's chauffeur, Branson. It had come to the point where she even now called him Tom, something that the rest of her family would probably never even hear of, let alone accept.

However, having spent so much time with the man had changed her opinion of him entirely, making her see that he was far more than a servant. Far more.

Sybil no longer knew how she felt about the chauffeur, and wished that she could speak to someone about the conflicted emotions that were welling up inside of her heart. She had always spoken to her mother about such matters of the heart, not that it had occurred all too often, as she had done so primarily when worried about Mary's antics, but even her sisters would probably call her a lunatic for even considering a relationship with a chauffeur that was anything more than a mistress to a servant.

When she had first noticed the feelings she was developing for the man, she also had dismissed them as her being overly kind to servants, as she always had been since childhood. '_I wouldn't have found that strange, if I was someone who knew me.'_ the young woman thought, trying to comfort herself, if only a little. '_After all__,__ I react with quite a bit of kindness to any member of staff. My feelings for Tom would not be seen as strange, if I didn't know otherwise, in any case.'_

Unable to think of any other strategy, the brunette decided, albeit a little reluctantly, to go and speak to her mother, under the false pretences that she was asking on behalf of a friend. She hated lying to her mother, had always hated to do so, as the girl had always thought of herself as an extremely honest person, but it was the only idea she could think of that would not result in her idea being shot down in flames and in Tom Branson being fired from his job.

Nevertheless, she had knocked the door and, upon the beckoning of the distinctive woman inside, entered her parents' bedroom, before her mind could form a team with her common sense and manage to convince her that the idea was not such a brilliant one.

"Good morning, Mama." she greeted the woman immediately, as she had always done when seeing her mother, only changing the teachings of her governess to apply the different times of day to practice.

"Good morning, Sybil." the woman responded, having been taught the same as a child and never having gotten out of the habit of doing so. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Mama. I'm fine." she answered, as honestly as she could do. After all, though she had to tell a slight falsehood to her mother when speaking of Tom, she did not have to lie throughout the entire conversation, and most certainly would not do so. "I just wanted to ask you a question, about a friend of mine. She needs some help with something, and I wasn't sure what I should tell her to do. I wondered if you might have an answer for her, given that I don't, and I don't want her to be let down, especially when she needs the advice so desperately at present."

"And what does she need to know about, darling?" Cora asked her daughter, trying her upmost to disguise the suspicious air threatening to creep into her voice. She knew that Sybil would not have asked her about anything to do with her friends, as she would more likely go to her sisters, whose knowledge on any factors that would affect an eighteen year old girl would be far superior to that of a woman of her mother's age.

"Well, the thing is…" the girl began, her voice sharing a little, as if she was nervous to speak. "My friend thinks that she is beginning to fall in love with a man that she spends an awful lot of time with."

"Go on." the woman encouraged, being more intrigued by the second, given that she suspected the friend that Sybil was, in fact, speaking of. Her youngest daughter had never been destined for a career on stage and screen, and was not as good an actress as she seemed to think she was.

"She's not quite sure whether her family will approve of this man. Actually, she is rather sure that they won't, but she does have a depth of feeling for him that she can't explain. It just appeared, and she really does not know what to do." The tone of her voice seemed to be becoming all the more desperate, something that she had noticed, but had not been able to control, much to her annoyance.

"Why does she think they won't approve, Sybil?" the elder woman continued to probe, quite relieved that she was a slight amount more skilled at pretence than the younger was, as she was becoming a little worried as to what the answer would be.

"The man is not really on the kind of level that her parents would expect for their daughter. He's a little below her." Sybil was still a little apprehensive in her speech, as she considered what her mother would think, should she see through her façade. At the raising of the woman's eyebrows, she continued, though she had been reluctant to do so. "He's their servant."

For a moment, Cora was silent, as she allowed her mind to process the thought. However, after half a minute, when she realised that she had been quiet for a little too long, she gave an answer. "Well, I doubt her family would be pleased about that, but, at the end of the day, it's her choice to make."

Two minutes passed, then Sybil left the room, not having spoken another word since the confession. In her wake, her mother sat on her bed, one hand placed on her forehead while the other arm was wrapped around her midsection, as if she was attempting to cradle her child once again.

'_What happened to my baby?'_

A/N: Please review! This story has been going for over a year, and it is about two thirds done, just so you know. Once again, please review!


	13. Comfort in Wartime

1916

A/N: Thank you to Guest and MelodyofSong526 for reviewing the previous chapter.

The Great War had raged on for two years, and Matthew had finally been called away to fight alongside the others, his class not distinguishing him at all. In truth, his young cousin doubted that it would have stopped him if it had, and had not a problem believing that he would have enrolled himself nonetheless.

However, as one by one the proud men started to fall, more and more of the boys from the Downton village were being taken away, a large number of them not being seen again, either remaining to fight on the front lines, or lying in the mud with a bullet buried in their body. It was terrible to see them taken from their families, taken from their homes, when the majority of them were so young that they had not had the time to discover what they wanted to do with their lives, let alone to live them out at all. It was pitiful to think that a large portion of them would not return to the village, unless it was in a wooden casket, cold and pale and dead.

Sybil shook her head slightly to clear it, and stood from her seat on the settee, where she was concentrating on some embroidery, which was not at all taxing, but gave her something with which to occupy her mind, for a little while, at least. The young men who would be convalescing at Downton would be arriving soon, and she would need to be prepared, but she could not seem to bring herself to believe that she had gotten her way, not until the first truckloads arrived on the gravel, and the soldiers were taken inside the house, finally given the space to return to their full strength, so that they could return to fighting for their country, as they had, unfortunately, been instructed to do, if at all possible.

"Are you alright, Sybil?" the woman questioned, a little confused at her daughter's actions. "You seem to be a little distant."

"Yes, Sybil, you've been like that all day." Edith chipped in, leaning forward a little in the chair she sat in, opposite to the chaise on which her mother and sister sat. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, I am absolutely fine." she told her family members, pulling the thread a little tighter on her fabric than was necessary to do, an obvious sign of her annoyance as being questioned when she did not feel any different to what she normally would. Well, perhaps that was not quite true, but there was still no need for both her sister and mother to be taking such an unnecessary interest in her wellbeing, when it was not needed at all.

"Are you sure?" the woman questioned, still not quite ready to give up on her curious nature, especially when it came to her youngest daughter, the most vulnerable baby in the world in her mother's eyes, though she was certainly more than capable of taking care of herself.

"Yes, Mama. I am absolutely sure." she all but snapped, in a very quiet voice, sitting back down on the settee.

"Right." the woman added, a little taken aback by the young girl's response to her question. "Edith, could you go and ensure that everything is ready for the soldiers to arrive? I need to have a word with Sybil for a moment."

"Of course, Mama." the redhead agreed, moving for the door as soon as she heard, and placing a gentle hand on her younger sister's shoulder as she walked, if only for a moment.

Once they were alone, the American woman began to speak again, this time in the direction of her youngest daughter, instead of the middle one. "Sybil, you may be fooling Edith, but you are not fooling me. Now, what is the matter? And don't even try to say that there is nothing, because I am not an idiot and I know that there is."

The brunette's mouth had been in the process of opening, but closed once again at her mother's words, as she had been preparing, once again, to proclaim that she was well. Another second passed, and then she confessed the reason for her secretive nature. "I'm worried about these soldiers, Mama, and about the ones still out in the trenches. Those most of all. They are all just a moment's bad decision from losing their lives, and even though I am trying to help them now, I am not really doing anything to change their fates. I just feel so helpless."

Immediately, Cora's arms wrapped around the young woman, her maternal instincts taking over as she saw the tears forming in her eyes, as she heard the sob drawn from her throat and felt as it wrenched her heartstrings. Sybil had been greatly saddened by the effects of the war, that much would be obvious to a blind man, but her mother had not known to what extent until now, until the composure of the steadfast nurse had slipped, to reveal the young daughter below. Too young, to have known a war as horrendous as this one had been, still promised to be.

"Sybil, it is alright." she comforted the brunette, stroking the waves of her hair with a tenderness that the girl had never really known from anyone other than the woman who had given her birth. Her grandmother had always said that it was Cora's American blood that made her so sentimental. Perhaps she was right, but her youngest daughter did not mind either way. "You will never have their blood on your hands, if that is what you are thinking. This war is not yours to fight, neither is it yours to end. Darling, all we can do is help the wounded men as best we can, and hope that the fighting will end soon. It's our only option, and there is nothing that can change that."

"No. But if I can help in any way at all, then I will." the young woman promised. And so she did.

A/N: Please review, if you have time!


	14. Pretending

1919

A/N: Thank you to SashaElizabeth for reviewing the last chapter.

Cora sat at the dinner table, a distant glaze covering over her eyes as she stared at her face, looking but not truly seeing it. Sybil had told Mary that she had suddenly come down with a bug of some sort, and that she was certainly not well enough to attend dinner, and that she would retire for bed early that night.

Though she had apparently said that she did not wish to cause a fuss, the woman could not help the feeling of curiosity mixed with worry that had overcome her mind, in regards to the health of her youngest daughter. She had seemed fine only a single day ago, and any illness that had taken root that quickly was certainly something to cause a fuss about. Or it was for her mother, at least.

Finally, she could stand not knowing no longer, and so excused herself discreetly from the table, truthfully saying that she was going to check on the young woman, to make sure that she was alright. Of course, she could have sent Anna or even Mrs. Hughes to go and check on the young woman, but she would rather do so herself. It was not that she did not trust them, as she would trust them to the ends of the earth, but it was an instinct of the mother to have to go and help her child herself.

When she reached Sybil's door at long last, silently cursing the amount of stairs in the grand house she called her home, she knocked quietly, recalling the time when the young woman had done the same for her, just after the loss of her darling boy. Though the memory was painful, it was good to remember that she had a family around her with whom she could share any burden, and she wanted to make sure that her youngest knew that as well.

"Sybil?" she called out, her tone almost as soft as her knock had been. "Sybil, it's Mama. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright, to see that you didn't need Dr. Clarkson to be called."

For a few seconds, she was met with only silence, bar the slight movement of something extremely heavy being pushed very quickly across the floor, and the springs of the bed moving a little before a weak voice came from inside, beckoning for the woman to enter.

When the wood of the door no longer stood between them, Cora was quite shocked by what she saw before her, though she did not know why, as she had been partially expecting such a sight. On the bed, Sybil lay, tucked beneath the blankets, though she was fully dressed in the simple clothes she had been wearing for that day. There was a thin sheen of perspiration on her forehead, although her face was pink, and not chalk white, as her mother had feared it would be, and the girl's breathing seemed to be a little laboured, her breaths far more heavy and sighing than usually they were. In fact, if she had not known her daughter to always have been quite truthful, she would have said that the young woman had only just returned to her bed, and that she was not ill in the least.

"How are you feeling, my darling?" she questioned nonetheless. After all, she was not about to give away her secret, as she did not have any idea whether or not her suspicions were factual, and she did not wish to go around making accusations when her daughter could very well be ill, as she claimed to be.

"I have to confess, Mama. I've felt better." the young woman sighed, with only a hint of the usual humour that would have laced the words. It was clear that she was either too ill to think of using more, or her acting skills had increased tenfold since the last time she had attempted to lie to her mother, when she had come to ask her opinion on a friend of hers who was beginning to care for a servant, far more than she should have done. Unfortunately, and though it made her extremely guilty to think it, she suspected that it was far more likely to be the latter, as it would explain a great deal more.

"Well, I don't doubt that, my darling. You look dreadfully ill." the dark haired woman told her daughter, laying the back of her hand across the girl's forehead, which she found to be a little heated, though that was not surprising for her, as she had now all but guessed the reason for the symptoms of her youngest child. "When did this happen?"

"It just appeared, really, this afternoon. It was a couple of hours before dinner, I think, and I returned from my walk in the garden, when my head began to ache terribly. That was when I came to lie down, after I asked Mary to inform you all." The explanation, to anyone who was not as suspicious of Sybil as her mother was, seemed to be perfectly acceptable, and it was clear even to Cora that the girl had thought it through very carefully, in case anyone should come knocking at her door. It was a sensible precaution to take, as someone was bound to do so, given the inquisitive, bordering invasive nature of the family, particularly of her own mother in law, Violet.

"Oh, that's terrible." the woman sighed, the sympathy in her voice quite clear. "Well, I suppose that you will want to rest, so I'll leave you alone, darling."

As soon as she had said this, the woman pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, the temperature of which seemed to have decreased a great deal since the last time she had checked, and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

It was as simple to Cora as the colour of the sky that her darling Sybil was planning to take a step with Branson. She could only hope that she was not going to do anything foolish.

A/N: Please review!


	15. A Step Too Far

1919

A/N: Thank you to SashaElizabeth for reviewing the last chapter.

Cora could hardly believe that she was hearing, or even the sight that was before her eyes. Right there in the doorway, her youngest daughter stood, hand in hand with Tom Branson, the family's chauffeur, professing the fact that they were in love with each other, something which had shocked the entirety of the family, close to the point where none of them could find the words to berate her for it.

"What on earth are you talking about?" she heard Robert ask, and the woman had to stop herself from sighing at her husband's over the top reaction. He had never had a great deal of skill in containing anger, especially when it would be appropriate to do so, and that had not changed in the least over the past few moments, and had been proved to a greater extent.

"Papa, it's true." Sybil told him, defiance as clear in her eyes as the admiration for her in Branson's. "I am in love with Tom, and I know that he is in love with me as well. That's why I have decided that I am going to marry him."

Though she had restrained herself before, Cora could not prevent the gasp that escaped her lips on that occasion. Upon hearing it, the young woman turned her hurt gaze to her mother, though she left her body facing her father, as a further act of defiance. It was clear in the eyes of the brunette that she had been relying on her slightly more liberal mother to have her back on the matter, and it was saddening for her to see that she did not have her support, especially when she was counting on the woman to stand up at her side against her father. Mind you, perhaps she should not have relied upon that fact, given that her mother had always been trained to take her husband's side in all matters of this nature, though admittedly, she had not done on every occasion.

"You cannot be serious." Robert breathed, his tone having moved immediately from that of impatience to that of disbelief, a rather common change for the man that all of the family were accustomed to. Unfortunately, they were all also used to the pattern that it formed, and so what happened next came as a shock only to poor Tom Branson. "You presume that you can just march in here unannounced, swan around like you own the place and fill the head of my youngest daughter with all of this nonsense! How dare you do this!"

"I did not fill her head with anything!" the young man responded, his annoyance quite clear to them all in the exclamation in his voice. For a moment, Cora found herself pleasantly surprised by his bravery. There were not many outside of the family who would dare to contradict Lord Grantham, and barely any within it either, so it was good to see that finally change, if only by a little. "Sybil is perfectly capable of making her own decisions. She doesn't need anyone to make them for her, neither me nor you."

"Well, that is precisely where you are wrong, Branson!" her father exclaimed, his face as reddened as a raspberry, due to the extent of his anger. His wife could hardly blame him, though she did not agree with the way he was going about things. Robert had never been used to people rising above their stations, especially not an Irish Catholic chauffeur, who was proving himself to be a formidable opponent in the battle to keep Sybil by their side. "Sybil is my daughter, and she will not be manipulated by a jumped up servant with a flaring temper!"

"Robert!" Cora finally cried, and the smile that bloomed on her daughter's face was well worth the look of fury on her husband's. "While we may not agree with the way they are going about it, Br… Mr. Branson is right. Sybil is an adult, and she has a right to choose what she wishes to do with her own life!"

"I will not allow my daughter to throw away her life!" the man cried, and the American woman was well aware of the fact that her child had flinched. She was not accustomed to her father being so abrupt with his anger, but the fear only lasted for a moment, before the Sybil the family knew and loved came to the surface.

"But Mama is right, Papa!" the youngest daughter cried, and quiet fell over the room, the ceasing of the chatter between Violet and Edith leaving the room in utter silence. "This is my life to live, and if I choose to spend it with Tom, then that is my decision to make, whether you approve of it or not!"

"Well, you need have no fear about my approval, girl, because you will never be granted such a privilege from my lips!" he exclaimed. It was little surprise to anyone that the young woman took that moment to take her leave of the party, as Mary tried to argue in her defence, and only once she had made a final passionate statement in regards to her relationship with Tom Branson.

Though she had completely breached convention, Cora found herself becoming quite proud of the girl she had raised. Unlike the majority of girls her age, she was independent, strong minded and unwilling to be put back down to her place, as she was not willing to accept that she had a specific one to be put into. There was more than a hint of spirit of the star spangled banner in her youngest, and this made her more than a match for any full blooded English lady. She may have been in the wrong in her father's eyes, her mother found that she was more right in her choices than any of them could comprehend.

'_Even if he is a chauffeur, and even if he may be of a lower station than she is, as long as Sybil loves him and he loves her truly as well, that is all that matters to me.'_

A/N: In honour of the new series of Downton, I've put this up. Please review this chapter, and the first of my new story, _The Miracle Girl of Downton_!


	16. Praying for Strength

1919

A/N: Thank you to Guest and MH96 for reviewing the last chapter.

Brushing down her skirts a little to remove any remnants of dirt from her apron, Sybil knocked twice upon the door that stood in front of her, then opened it and entered into the room which the wood had hidden.

The moment she entered the room, a bedroom that she knew so well, the young woman's gaze was directed to the bed, and the woman who lay in sickness upon it. She tried to hide the expression of pain that had flickered across her face at the sight of the darker haired woman's suffering, and knew that she had not done so very successfully at all. '_It could have mattered more, I suppose.'_ she thought, the bitterness of the situation present even in her mind, as well as in the tears she had cried over the past days, and the ones she was sure that she would still cry for her. '_The only person here to see me is Mama, and I doubt that she would be able to tell even if my acting had improved dramatically__.__'_

Moving to her bedside, Sybil went about her duties, carefully completing the monotonous tasks that she had become accustomed to doing for patients during the war. She took the woman's temperature and made a few notes on her appearance, to see how it compared to reports of the various stages of the sickness, before she moved on to the more menial tasks. She fluffed the pillows as best she could without aggravating her mother, tucked the sheets more neatly around Cora's waist and bathed her forehead in iced water, trying her best not to allow the fever to increase, and hoping to perhaps even lower it just a little. She did everything that she could to make her mother more comfortable, and despaired that, even with her months of training, she could do no more to make her any better than that.

"I wish that I could help you, Mama, I truly do." the young woman spoke out loud, her voice a low whisper, so that if she was in fact listening, perhaps the countess would not notice the tears that laced her tone. It was fairly possible that she could feel the water droplets that slipped from her daughter's cheek down onto her skin, but Sybil hoped that even that would go undetected. She knew that her mother worried a great deal about her, and all she wanted her to do was recover, not to worry about how her children were coping even in the subconscious.

Having completed all the duties that needed to be performed, the brunette merely sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to take Cora's hand in her own. The skin she touched was like fire, and she automatically moved the compress from the woman's head to the skin of her hand, just to try and give her some relief, but a pained groan from her lips told the nurse to cease the new plan and return the dampened cloth to where it had been. Despite the awful situation, the young woman could not help but smile. After all, in each of her visits over the past few days, Lady Grantham had been completely unconscious, barely even stirring on most occasions, so to hear a verbal protest from her was a relief. '_If she can make her opinions heard to me at this point, then she may just be on the road to recovery.'_ Sybil thought, and her smile widened even further.

"It's alright, Mama, you can fight this." the brunette told her mother, pressing lightly against her hand in a pressure that she hoped would be comforting, though to which of them she was not certain. "Over the years, you have seen me through so many troubles, and you have done the same for Mary, and Edith, and even Papa. You have never let us give up when a situation took a turn for the worse, and I will not let you give up either. You're strong, Mama, stronger than all of us. Please, just be strong enough to fight back, please."

Even after her heartfelt speech had ended, the young woman glanced down to see her mother once more locked in the throes of the illness, but that she had gone to sleep once again, and seemed to be in a little less pain than she had been in the brief spell in which she had been awake. This was a mercy, at least, as whatever dreams her mother was having, they seemed to be making her just a little better, or taking her mind off the pain in any case. Doctor Clarkson had said that this was merely because her body had some healing time during sleep, when she had asked him about the matter a couple of days earlier, but Sybil was not so certain. She believed that her mother was using all the happy memories she had of her family to fight off the Spanish flu that she had been plagued with. Whether this was true or not, she did not know, and the nursing part of her suspected that it was not, but it gave her a little hope, and in a time when half the house had come down with this potentially lethal disease, hope could be the difference between sinking and staying afloat.

However, just as she had risen from the bed and turned to leave the room, the young woman felt a hand reach out to clasp hers once more. Immediately, she dropped the pile of linen towels that she had been holding and sat herself down on the bed once more. Her eyes were not deceiving her, it was true.

There on the bed, from where she had lain just a moment earlier, Cora had opened her eyes widely, and was staring at her daughter, the beautiful smile that she knew so well written across her face. Sybil could not prevent herself from smiling in return, because although the countess returned to her slumber only a minute or two later, she had still been strong enough to reach out and grasp the hand of her youngest girl, and it was this that had reinforced her hopes.

This meant that her mother could fight, and if the brunette knew her as well as she thought she did, then she knew that Cora would.

A/N: Please review!


	17. The Wedding Album

1919

A/N: Thank you to MH96, Palmviolet and SashaElizabeth for reviewing the last chapter.

With a sigh, Cora Crawley lay down in her bed once more. In her lap, she held a small parcel, around twice the size of a regular envelope, and from the neat loops of handwriting on the front of it, where the address had been written, she knew exactly who had sent it. It was a parcel from her darling Sybil.

Her youngest daughter had left Downton Abbey only two months ago now, after her father had finally accepted that she would not relent in her wish to marry Tom Branson, their old chauffeur. He had given her a little money and a few items to take with them to help them along the way, but most importantly, he had given them his blessing, and the American woman knew her daughter well enough to know that this was the only thing she truly cared about.

Before she moved to open the parcel, the countess took just another few seconds to admire the handwriting on the front of it, and it brought a smile to her face as she took in each curl and flick of the hand that was so clearly that of her Sybil. But eventually, her curiosity could be held back no longer, and so she untied the string and unwrapped the plain brown paper that enclosed the parcel, leaving only the contents in her hands. It was then that Cora felt the tears surface in her eyes.

At first glance, it was clear that the object was a book, with a long rectangular cover. It was bound in cream coloured leather, and the title was embroidered onto it in silver thread. This was evidently an extremely expensive thing to buy on the income that her daughter had described to her, which made it all the more flattering when the countess considered that it had been gifted to her. However, the title was what had brought tears to her eyes, as it showed her precisely what Sybil had wanted her to see. It was a wedding album.

It was one of the most regretful situations in her life, the fact that Cora had been unable to attend her youngest daughter's wedding. It was true that when she had thought of her child's future husband, the Irish Liberal former chauffeur of their household had not been precisely what she had in mind, but Tom Branson clearly loved her with all his heart, and she loved him just as much in return. That had been good enough for her mother, even if it had not been for Robert.

The truth was that Robert had never truly accepted the fact that his youngest daughter was marrying a working class Irishman, even though he had given his blessing to the couple after Lavinia's funeral. Ever since Sybil was born, he had been expecting for her to marry a duke or an earl, to keep a high status in society and to eventually have titled children with her titled husband. '_He expected her to turn out like me.'_ Cora observed.

But now that dream of his had slipped away, as by marriage, their youngest child was now a commoner, married to a former staff member of the house and living in a different country, a country that was going to hell, according to their social circles. True, Ireland was a dangerous place, but the American woman did not worry too much about the effect that would have on Sybil. She was a strong girl, she always had been, and if she could have any of her three girls in such a rapidly changing place, strangely enough, it would always be her baby that she would choose.

Bringing herself back to reality, Cora opened the cover of the album, pausing on the first page, which was covered by a light layer of tissue paper, so as to protect the photograph itself. It was an image of Sybil and Tom, stood outside a church. It was a beautiful place, very ornate, as could be expected from a Catholic church, but there was nothing more beautiful in the picture than Sybil herself. She was dressed all in white, as she should be, and though her dress was simple, it was stunning all the same. There was no lace edging, no layers of silk, no elegant silver embroidery, as there had been on her own wedding gown, but Cora thought it perfect all the same.

"I wish I could have been there." she sighed to herself, wiping a stray tear from her porcelain coloured cheek. She had wanted to attend the wedding, of course she had, but Robert had sent a reply to the invitation before she had had a chance to see it, saying that they were too ill to attend the ceremony. In truth, he was just unwilling to attend the Catholic wedding of a working class Irish Liberal, even if the man was marrying his own daughter, and would not even permit his wife or his mother to attend. He could not prevent Mary and Edith from attending, nor could he prevent Matthew from chaperoning them, and they had described the ceremony in great detail when they had returned, but still, it was no substitute for seeing the event itself.

There were many more pictures remaining in the album, of the couple and of their families, including a picture of the three sisters stood together, which she would discover later, when she viewed the album in more detail, but for now, Cora shut the book and laid it on the pillow beside her, sighing deeply to herself.

'_Where did all that time go?'_ she asked herself sadly. '_I can still recall when all three of the girls would run around in the garden with poor dear Patrick, laughing and playing until the sun went down. I remember the first time Sybil walked by herself, running for a couple of steps and then falling into my arms. I remember that one Christmas where she played an angel, flying down from the rafters and scaring me half to death. She is my baby, and she always will be, but she's grown up now, and I have to accept that. She isn't mine any more. She belongs with Branson now... with Tom.'_

Robert was entertaining guests that evening, and she had been excused, due to the fact that she was still 'ill'. He would not come to bed until the early hours of the morning, and so Cora decided to retire. She had already been prepared for bed by O'Brien, though she had barely dressed that day in any case, and so all that remained was to blow out the flame of the candle beside the bed.

However, just before she plunged the room into darkness, the countess looked back over her shoulder, reading the words on the cover one last time, and whispered to the empty room.

"Good night, Sybil Branson."

A/N: I really wanted to write Cora's reaction to the wedding, and I did! Please review!


	18. Advice on Motherhood

1919

A/N: Thank you to MH96 and granthamfan for reviewing the last chapter.

Cora looked down at the letter in her hands, clearly recognising Sybil's elegant, if a little rushed, handwriting on the envelope. She could hardly contain her sigh of relief when Robert had told her who the letter was from, as the rumours of the uprisings in Ireland were becoming the topic of conversation far more frequently of late and she had not heard from her daughter since the previous month. Of course, as a mother, her mind had been running wild, so to have it confirmed for her that her child was alright had made her Christmas all the better.

Robert had begun to speak of one topic or another, something to do with his sister Rosamund and her new beau, but Cora was not truly listening, as she had opened the letter and was now engrossed with its contents. She kept one ear open, as she had always been taught to do when she was not truly paying attention, a trick learnt from her sneaky brother, Harold, in case her husband should ask her opinion on the matter, but otherwise, she was completely focused on the word from her youngest child.

_My dearest Mama,_

_I hope that this letter will find you in good health, and I hope that Papa, Mary, Edith and Granny are also. I'm sorry that I've not written for a while, but with all the chaos in Dublin at the moment, it is difficult to be able to communicate with the outside world. You needn't worry, Mama, Tom and I are completely safe, living on the outskirts of the city with his family, it is just a little difficult to send letters across to England at the moment, as I'm sure you can understand._

_Though I did write this letter with the intention of informing you that I'm alright, there was another purpose behind it. Tom and I have discovered some wonderful news, and I could not wait any longer to share our joy with you._

_I've been a little ill for a while, and so I visited the local doctor, at Tom's request, to find out what was wrong. I had thought it was just a little stomach flu, as the bug has been circulating very quickly in this area, and two of Tom's younger sisters had come down with it, but he confirmed to me what Tom's mother had already suspected._

_Mama, I am pregnant._

Cora gasped loudly as she read the final line, catching the attention of her husband, who had been just as lost in his speech as she had been in her reading. His brow furrowed slightly, and he asked her what had caused her to react in such a way, though a slight smile twitched the corners of his mouth at the one that was beaming across her own.

"Sybil's pregnant." she breathed, and immediately, Robert's smile dropped. Instinctively, having seen her husband's reaction, Cora allowed her own smile to fade a little, though it did not disappear entirely. She knew exactly what was the man's problem with this situation. His grandchild, his first grandchild, would be the daughter of a working-class Irish socialist.

"So, that's it, then." the earl said, sighing slightly. There was an unmistakable bitterness in his tone as he spoke, one that did not surprise his wife in the least. "No return. She's crossed the Rubicon."

"She crossed it when she married him, Robert." Cora had had to prevent herself from sighing deeply at his unreasonable reaction, particularly so long after the event, but she could not prevent herself from pointing out the obvious fact that the man seemed to have missed in his anger. "I hardly think that this should make much difference."

"Hmm." the earl sighed, although he made no further comment on the subject, gulping down a large glass of brandy to help himself recover from the shock before he left.

Seeing that she would get nowhere by forcing the point, Cora returned to the letter.

_Now, I'm certain that this will be a shock to the family, Mama, and I assure you that it was a surprise to us as well. I am due in just over seven months, according to the midwife, and I would like to come to Downton for a little while before that time, as it isn't likely I'll be able to travel to England for a few months at least after the baby is born. I hope that this will be alright, as I will be bringing Tom with me, whether or not Papa approves of him. After all, he is my husband, and I want you all to get to know him._

_Mama, I have to confess that I'm a little frightened. I knew that I would be a mother one day, or I assumed that I would at any rate, but it had never crossed my mind that I would become one at such a young age. I'm worried that I will not be good enough to provide for the baby, that I will not be able to look after it properly. I hope that you can offer me some advice on this. You're the best mother I have ever met, after all._

_I hope to see you soon, Mama,_

_Much love,_

_Sybil._

Cora sighed and smiled at the content of the letter. Sybil had always been a soul to be easily worried, although to look at her, you would think she was fearless, and it was comforting to know that, even after her marriage, she still looked to her mother for advice.

'_Well, it seems that I'm to be a grandmother soon, as well.'_ she thought, and she felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect. '_And I'll have a chance to see my Sybil again. We've been through the mill these past few years, but if I can have my youngest girl back with me, even for a little while, anything would be worth it.'_

A/N: Please review!


	19. Coming Home

1920

A/N: Thank you to MH96, granthamfan, SashaElizabeth and adama-roslinlove for reviewing the last chapter.

The day of Mary's wedding to Matthew was not far away now, and the excitement wafted through the air of Downton Abbey, and for the family, there was an added excitement to be found. Sybil and Tom Branson had travelled over from Dublin the previous night, and they were due to come in on the three o'clock train. Cora, for one, could not wait to see her youngest daughter again, and she knew that the majority of those that lived at Downton, both upstairs and down, felt the same way. Sybil had always been beloved to the whole household, and the atmosphere, which had been dampened a little of late, still shaken by the effects of the Great War, had been lifted no end by news of her imminent return.

For the first time in a long while, the excitable chattering of the servants could be heard throughout the house, something which none of the family minded in the least. It was good to hear after endless days of only plodding footsteps. Now, the maids seemed to be all but skipping down the corridors, gossiping to each other about wedding preparations and how wonderful it would be to have all the family together again. Everything seemed to be back to how it should be.

Cora sat in a chair in the library, trying to concentrate on the piece of embroidery she held in her hand, but her fingers trembling too much with excitement for her to make another good stitch to the flower she had been trying to create. Finally, she abandoned her attempts, reasoning with herself that it would be better to complete the task a little later and to a better quality than to rush it and end up ruining the hard work she had done before. She had hoped to give the piece to Sybil when she arrived, but she doubted the girl would mind. All she would want at that moment was what they all wanted for her; to come home.

'_I hope that she'll stay for a while,'_ Cora thought longingly. '_And not just leave when the wedding's over. Perhaps she'll stay until the baby's born, then we'll get to spend a lot more time together.'_

The countess smiled at the thought of the new addition to their family. She could still remember the shock she had felt, reading her daughter's letter all those months ago, when she had told her that she was pregnant with hers and Tom's first child.

It seemed rather surreal to her that she was soon to become a grandmother, and by the child of her youngest daughter as well. Even all these months after she had found out about the baby, it had barely sunk in that her youngest child was pregnant, particularly when neither of the elders had yet married.

Cora sighed, lost in her memories once again. Only a day seemed to have gone by since Sybil was a baby herself, though it had been close to two dozen years now. She still remember cradling her in her arms for the very first time, arguing with Mary and Edith about a name for her third little girl, and marvelling at the idea that, after all this time had passed, she could still have room in her heart to unconditionally love a fourth person in her life. That marvel had never ceased really, only now she knew she would have to make room for a fifth.

Suddenly, the hustle and bustle in the entrance hall seemed to intensify, the maids becoming louder and the footsteps becoming more and more hurried. In fact, the majority of them seemed to be heading in one direction, from what the countess could tell. Having not lost her inquisitive nature, even after all these years, Cora went to see what all the fuss was about.

True to what she had expected, many of the staff were gathered near the front entrance, huddling close together, and standing just far enough forwards that they could see through the open doors, but not forward enough that they could be seen by Mrs. Hughes, who was standing just outside, on the gravel. The woman seemed extremely happy about something, smiling even more than usual. Suddenly, Lady Grantham realised. Carson had always hidden having a favourite of the three children, Mary, and Mrs. Hughes had always hidden having a favourite too. A smile appeared on Cora's face as well. She was here.

Hoping beyond hope that she was right, the brunette rushed to the doors, ignoring the bobbed curtsies of the maids as she passed them, in her rush to see if she had been right. A car stood outside, on the gravel, and there was a man at the back of it, collecting the luggage from where it had been secured there. There was no chauffeur, and it seemed that the man had been the one to drive them there; '_A good sign.'_ Cora thought.

And sure enough, from the other side door, a young woman stepped out of the car, looking up in wonder and relief at the Abbey. Her brunette hair was hidden beneath a plain travelling hat, but little curls of it escaped to the sides. She was dressed rather plainly, to match her hat, and her dress was of a looser fit, to accommodate the baby growing inside her stomach. Still, for all her lack of finery, Cora still thought the girl was the most beautiful she had ever seen. She had always done.

"Sybil!" she greeted, moving toward the young woman. She started slightly at the sound, her eyes falling from the flag at the top of the building to her mother, approaching her with open arms. It had been a sight she had wished to see for so long, and she rushed to embrace the woman.

"Oh, Mama." she sighed, over her mother's shoulder, clutching her tighter than she expected she had ever held anyone.

They stayed there for a long while, until Tom had collected the bags and brought them inside, and the rest of the family had caught wind of the news and arrived to say hello to Sybil. But when their moment was broken by the continuing of reality, Cora found that she did not really mind. Of course, Sybil should greet the rest of the family, and Tom as well; he was one of them now, but that was not the most important thing.

The most important thing was that she was home, where she belonged.

A/N: I changed it from the series, I know, but when I was watching, I couldn't help but feel there should've been a moment between Sybil and Cora too. Please review!


	20. The Dangers of Rebellion

1920

A/N: Thank you to MH96, Guest and granthamfan for reviewing the last chapter.

Cora sighed once again, glancing up at the clock, to see how many minutes had passed since she had last checked. Barely three.

The house felt so empty now, what with Mary and Matthew on a small honeymoon in the countryside, and Sybil had gone back home to Ireland, with Tom. Her hopes of meeting her grandchild soon had been crushed, but she had offered no argument to their decision. Of course she hadn't argued; it was not her place to question them. It was their baby and therefore, it had been their choice to make. But a small part of Cora did feel upset by it. Now, she would not see her daughter or her first grandchild for months.

At a loss for what else to do, she decided to write a letter to Sybil, to make sure that she had arrived safely and was well. Of course, she could just as easily have called her daughter and would have received a quicker answer, as Robert had seen fit to purchase a telephone for them to take home to Ireland, so that they could be contacted immediately once the child was born. But she had wished to send a small nightgown she had embroidered for the baby in any case, and to write a letter to accompany it would pass the time, if nothing else.

_My dearest Sybil,_

Then Cora stopped. She did not have a clue what to write to her daughter about. She could tell her about things going on in the family, but she and Tom had only left a week ago, and would know the majority of the local gossip already. She could ask her about life in Dublin, but then she might think she was being too inquisitive, or trying to spy on her. She could tell her that she missed her and could not wait to see her again, but then Sybil might think her mother was clinging to her. Worse, she could decide to come home to have the baby when it was not what she wanted.

Sighing, Cora put the pen and paper down, knowing that it would be better to write nothing than to turn her daughter away by saying something to upset her. Instead, she walked the length of the library and found a newspaper sat on her husband's desk. It was clear that he had already read it, as it had been hastily thrown down onto the surface, and not neatly folded, as it was when the servant's brought it to him after breakfast. She plucked it from the desk with a lazy interest, but her eyes became sharp and aware of each detail as she read the blaring headline.

ARSONISTS ATTACK IRELAND STATELY HOME; DOZENS ARRESTED

Cora felt a lump appear in her throat, even as her head began to spin. The article claimed that the attack had been the work a group of Irish revolutionaries, who felt that the wealth of the aristocratic families in Ireland ought to be a thing of the past. She had known the fight was going to come, but she had not thought that the revolutionaries would take things so far, not when Tom had described them with such a sense of admiration.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. _Tom._

Immediately, her mind came alive with thoughts of her son-in-law being carted away in a police van, leaving his wife and unborn child to fend for themselves in a town they were alien to. '_What will happen to his poor child?'_ she wondered and felt bile rise in her throat at her thoughts. '_And what will happen to mine?'_

If Tom was arrested, then her darling daughter would be left to fend for herself in the middle of a rebellion, hundreds of miles from the people she knew and trusted. God forbid, they might even arrest her as well, as an accomplice. Cora's eyes filled with tears as she imagined her youngest child sat in a squalid prison cell, clinging to the child at her breast as wardens snatched the baby away from her.

"I'm being ridiculous." she told herself, hoping that to speak aloud, even to an empty room, would bring more truth to the words. "Sybil is a capable young woman and Tom loves her to the ends of the Earth. He will have made sure that she's safe, her and the baby. Besides, he may not even have been involved."

Trying to convince herself that she was being foolish, Cora returned her eyes to the article, most specifically to the list of names at the bottom of the page. The names listed were those who had been proven to be involved in the incident, and had been arrested accordingly. As she scanned the page, the countess' heart thumped in her chest, her lungs burning with the breath she did not know she had been holding.

There were numerous men, it seemed who shared the given name Thomas, and even a man belonging to the Branson family, a cousin at best guess, but Tom himself was not among the names of those who had been detained; Cora sighed with relief to see that neither her daughter nor son-in-law had been involved in the attacks, in the eyes of the police force, at least. Cora still harboured the idea that Tom had certainly been involved in planning the arson, even if he had not been the one to light the flame.

Tears began to fill the woman's eyes with the relief of it all and she turned the page, deciding that reading a newspaper might give her a little content to add to her letter. What she had not realised was that the story had been continued on the overleaf, with a list of participants who were still 'at large', beginning with two very familiar names.

_Mr. Thomas Branson, and his wife, Lady Sybil Branson_

Cora barely noticed as the paper fell to the ground.

A/N: Please review!


	21. Safe and Sound

1920

A/N: Thank you to MH96, Guest, granthamfan and MelodyofSong526 for reviewing.

Cora had suffered restless nights ever since learning her daughter was being hunted as an arsonist's accomplice, and ever since Tom had appeared wet and bedraggled on the doorstep of Downton Abbey, she had not had a moment's sleep for worry about her child, alone and hidden in the midst of a strange country, carrying a child of her own that was due to be born in just a few weeks.

She had always prided herself on being able to hold her temper and voice her opinions with the grace of a lady, as she had been taught to do in childhood and had taught her daughters to do in turn, yet when Tom had told her of what he had done, she had snapped. By the time Robert had been able to calm her, her voice had been close to a shriek. It had been years since she had been so severely rattled, but it was the thought of her daughter in danger that had pushed her over the edge.

Later, when she had calmed a little, she regretted the way she had behaved toward her son-in-law, although she did not go as far as to apologise to the man. While she regretted the way she had voiced her grievances, she did not believe them any less valid now than they had been when she had spoken them. Tom should have known better, and Sybil, even now, was still in danger.

It had been early in the morning when Cora had awoken to the bustling of servants outside on the landing. It was a sound that she had become accustomed to sleeping through many years ago, but in recent times, while the struggles in Ireland were threatening the life of the house's youngest daughter, they had become almost silent. Now, they were busy once more, chattering and laughing; they were happy. Cora wished she could feel the same.

Having awoken, the countess decided she would make her way downstairs to breakfast with Robert and the girls, not wanting to be alone in waking hours, hoping her thoughts would once again be overwhelmed by the talk at the table. However, as she dressed and made her way downstairs, the volume of the chatter increased, buzzing more and more excitedly the closer she got to the entrance hall.

Then Cora saw why.

There was a small trunk placed on the floor beside the open door, faded and scratched, nothing as pristine as anything the family would have owned. And yet, it had originally been as pristine as theirs, for it belonged to one of them. But it was not the trunk that caused the weight to lift from her shoulders, so much as the young woman stood beside it.

Cora began to run down the staircase, barely taking note of where she was placing her feet as she moved down the steps. She could hardly see the servants bustling around, nor hear the insistent barking of Robert's dog, Isis, in the distance. All she cared about was her little girl, who had seen her now and was running towards her.

It was only a second before they were wrapped in each other's arms, holding on for dear life as if by separating themselves they would be hundreds of miles away all over again. Cora had not cradled her youngest daughter in this way since she was just a child, but Sybil offered no complaints, clinging just as tightly to her mother, if not more so. Tears were streaming down their faces, tears of shock, of relief and of utter joy.

"Oh, Mama." Sybil cried, her voice muffled by the fabric of the countess' dress. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Ssh." Cora soothed, holding her daughter even closer, though she had not thought that were possible. "It's alright, darling, it's alright. You're here. You're home. You're safe. You're safe."

It took a long while before they finally found the courage to break apart, but even once they did, they did not step even a pace backwards, unwilling to be even that far apart after being separated for so long by the Irish Sea. Both their faces were stained with tears and Sybil had one hand tightly clasped in her mother's, while the other had drifted to her bulging abdomen. In all the relief and confusion, Cora had almost forgotten about her unborn grandchild.

"What happened, Sybil?" the countess asked, resting her hand on her daughter's cheek. She could feel the tears wetting her palm.

"It wasn't his fault, Mama, I swear." the young woman began, her voice far stronger than her mother remembered. She had grown up a great deal in the time they had been apart; trapped in such a dangerous world, she had had to. "Tom was involved in the plans, but he never thought it would go so far. He feels incredibly guilty about the fire, Mama, and he wishes it never had happened."

"I'm sure we all feel that way." Cora replied, a little bitterly. She still had not forgiven her son-in-law for leaving his pregnant wife alone in a foreign country, but then again, she did not know if she ever truly would. Nonetheless, she tried to plaster a smile onto her face. "Still, you're both here now, safe. That's all that matters."

"I'm sorry." Sybil whispered, her eyes suddenly downcast. She was rubbing absent-minded circles on her stomach, something Cora had always done when she'd carried her girls.

"For what?" Cora asked.

"Well, I can see that you haven't been sleeping for a while, and that you've been upset." she elaborated, making a vague gesture in the direction of her mother's red-rimmed eyes and the shadows beneath them. "I'm sure that was because of me. And so, I'm sorry that you had to go through so much pain worrying for me."

"Sybil, I will worry for you, and for Mary and for Edith, every day until the day I die." Cora explained, wrapping her arms around her daughter once again. "That is what a mother does, something you'll know soon enough."

Locked in the warmth of their embrace, the two women did not notice the cold wind blowing through Downton. Things were changing and soon enough, they would never be the same again.

A/N: There's only a couple of chapters left now, for obvious reasons. Please review!


	22. The Peaceful Promise

1920

A/N: Thank you to MelodyofSong526, MH96 and granthamfan for reviewing the last chapter.

It had taken far longer for Cora to fall asleep than it had done for her husband beside her. She lay awake, tossing and turning from side to side. No matter how much she tried to clear her mind and allow herself to drift away, her thoughts turned to her daughter and the plight she was suffering just a few rooms away.

It was the first child she had borne and Sybil was not coping well with the pain that accompanied impending motherhood. Cora was reminded greatly of her own plight, bringing Mary into the world. It had not been an experience she had greatly enjoyed and the pain was akin to someone ripping her in two from the inside out, but as soon as it was over, she had known she would suffer through it a hundred times over if only to have her little girl. Sybil would feel the same, she knew it; every mother did.

Finally, the countess gave up on any notions of sleep and wrapped a dressing gown around herself, padding down the corridor to visit her daughter and see if she was faring any better now that some time had gone by. There was a chill in the air that night, despite it being only September, and Cora wrapped her arms tightly around herself. It had been exceedingly warm in the past couple of weeks... the sudden change in weather sent a shiver up Cora's spine, of fear rather than cold. Something was wrong; she could feel it in her bones.

The room where Sybil had taken to bed was far warmer and yet, impossibly, the chill seemed even stronger there. Hoping to comfort herself a little, Cora crossed to the bed and settled herself down on the edge of it, brushing her daughter's curling hair away from her face. She seemed far more peaceful in sleep than she had been while awake, though once in a while a shadow of pain crossed over her features: Cora was thankful that she had found some relief, at least.

It was not long before Sybil's eyelids began to flutter open, her face clouding with pain once more. Instinctively, Cora shook her daughter's shoulder firmly, to bring her into a full state of wakefulness. '_At least if she knows I'm here,'_ she thought. '_She'll know that she doesn't have to face the pain alone. Lord knows, if I had had to, I would have gone mad long before Mary had come into the world.'_

In the brief moment she was awake but not aware of her surroundings, Sybil cried out in fear and pain. But quick enough she recognised her mother and she calmed as the woman's gentle hands stroked a familiar path through her tangled hair.

"It's alright, my darling, I'm here." Cora soothed, her voice a soft, familiar whisper.

"Mama?" questioned Sybil, still not quiet awake. Her voice was raw and scratching from disuse- or perhaps from the cries of pain the countess had agonised over in hours past, wishing she could do something to take the pain away.

"Yes, darling." Cora confirmed for her, taking one of her daughter's hands in her own. After all, although soon this girl would have a babe of her own, she would always be, to Cora, the mewling child she had held in her arms all those years ago.

"Mama, how long does it last?" Sybil asked, her voice beginning to break. Her eyes were swimming with tears, blurring her vision, but even such a waterfall could not hide the expression of pained sympathy on her mother's face.

"It shouldn't be much longer, Sybil." Cora answered, although she was not certain this was the truth. Mary's birth had been close to two days from start to finish, whereas Sybil herself had been only a few short hours. There was no way to tell how long a babe would take in coming; all that could be done was wait for it to arrive.

"Mama, I'm frightened." the girl admitted in a whisper.

"Oh, Sybil, the worst part's already over." the countess professed, trying to comfort the young woman, but Sybil was already shaking her head in denial.

"No, I'm not afraid of becoming a mother, Mama." she told her mother, sounding a little frustrated. "I'm afraid of being a mother- of being a bad mother."

Finally, Cora understood and reached for Sybil's other hand.

"Oh, my dear," she began, speaking in that soft yet firm way that only mothers seemed to master. "It is the greatest fear of every mother that they will fail their child and for most women, that fear is unfounded. As soon as you hold your little boy or girl in your arms, then you will know that you will do everything in your power to keep them safe, to give them everything they could ever want or need. That is every mother's greatest hope and it will be your life's work from this day onwards. So don't you worry, Sybil. My grandchild will be lucky to have you as their mother."

Sybil smiled vaguely, but already she was beginning to drift back off to sleep, and though there was so much more that she wished to tell her daughter, Cora could not bring herself to disturb the precious little rest that she would get in the hours to come. And so, once the girl's chest had begun to rise and fall in rhythm, her mother stood and left her alone, pausing at the doorway to cast a final glance at her little girl. She seemed so peaceful now, such a sharp contrast to the pain that had marred her features, and the countess could not help but be reminded of all the time she had spent watching her sleep as a baby.

"Good night, my Sybil." Cora whispered, before she slipped away to her own bedroom. It would not be long now before Sybil would have her own child to care for, but until then, the woman could simply pretend that she was her baby once more. At least that way she could protect her.

A/N: Please review!


	23. The Last Goodbye

1920

A/N: Thank you to MH96, JessieBes and MelodyOfSong526 for reviewing the last chapter.

The numerous gas lamps flooded the room with light, but all that Cora could see was the shadows. It seemed as if her whole life had been consumed by them, eating away at the light until she would be blinded to all the good in the world. '_There cannot be any good in the world.'_ Cora had resigned herself to this fact often in the past hours. '_Not now. Not after this.'_

Sybil Crawley, her darling youngest daughter, was laid out in her bed, waiting for the funeral directors to come and take her away. At a passing glance, she looked almost as if she was sleeping, but Cora knew better- Sybil had always been a restless, movement-driven girl. Even in sleep, she had never been so still.

It was strange to think that, not even a day ago, the family had been in joyful celebration as a new child, Sybil's own daughter, was brought into the world. Just a few hours ago, Cora had sat by her daughter's side, comforting her through the labours of childbirth. She had never imagined all that pain would come to this. Not for her Sybil.

All day long, people had been coming and going through the household, floating silently through the halls of the Abbey like ghosts, a haunting memory of a daily routine that Cora could hardly care less about. It was not important, nothing was, when her child lay dead in front of her.

The tears were coming again, streaking her cheeks and catching the light, illuminating her cheeks with the burning pain of her heartbreak. Cora cursed the weakness she could not prevent, even though there was no one present to see her lapse in control. She doubted that anyone would care if she cried, knowing as they did the girl that had been lost and how she had cared for her, but even so, as long as she had the pretence of being well, the countess would not be entirely lost.

When she had miscarried her baby boy, almost eight years ago, the physical pain of her body rejecting the child had been almost enough to dull her sense of losing the child. Now, there was no physical pain, only a gaping hole in her heart. Had she not had her other girls to care for, Cora truly believe that she would have taken a knife and tried to cut her heart open, to take the pain away. '_I have to be strong, for the two daughters I still have.'_ she reminded herself, but it was difficult when she was hardly strong enough to eat.

There had been many visitors to the room: Mary, Edith, even Robert on one occasion, but she had answered her daughters' questions with only short phrases and had not even spared her husband a glance. Soon enough, they had gotten the message and left her alone with Sybil, to speak her parting words before she was taken away for good.

The only trouble was, now that she had the opportunity, Cora could truly not think of any words to say. There were so many conversations she would never have, so many jokes that would never be told and so many congratulations never to be said. To replace all of them in so little time seemed quite impossible.

The heavy crunch of gravel, although faint, was still audible. The undertakers had arrived. '_This is the final chance.'_ Cora reminded herself. '_Whatever I have to say, I'll have no other opportunity than now. I have to let her go now.'_

"Oh, my darling baby girl," the woman began. Her eyes were already filling with tears, just as they had done each of the other times she attempted to say her goodbyes, but she persevered nonetheless. "I never thought that I have to say goodbye to you so soon. In fact, I always thought that I would be the one to pass over once those goodbyes were said. But clearly that wasn't meant to be..."

For a moment, Cora paused, blinking her eyes rapidly. The world had become a watery blur of light and shadow and Sybil's face swam before her eyes. '_I can't let that happen.'_ she all but screamed inside her mind. She had to commit each detail of Sybil's beautiful face to memory. There was no need for her to do this, of course; she would recall every tiny detail of her daughter's face until the day she died.

"Sybil, I want you to know how much I'll miss you. Every day of my life until the day I die, I will think of you and love you and miss you terribly. And when your baby girl grows up, I will tell her all about her mother and the wonderful woman she was. It breaks my heart that you won't get to raise her yourself, like I did for you and your sisters, but you don't need to worry. We'll take good care of her for you."

There were footsteps along the landing, accompanied by the hushed voices of the funeral director and Carson the butler. It seemed that he was trying to delay the man for a little while, but he would not be able to do so for long, nor should he have to. In the distance, the baby cried and whimpered, as if she sensed the final blow of the loss that had befallen her.

Begrudgingly, Cora stood from the stool, the first time she had done so in the past day. She could feel the pain of the upcoming separation tearing her heart in two, but once again, she persevered. This would be the hardest thing she would ever have to do, of that she was certain, but it had to be done all the same.

"Bye-bye, my darling." Cora whispered, planting a final kiss on her daughter's forehead and smoothing the small tendrils of hair back from it. "You get some rest now."

And with those final words, Cora gave the room to the undertakers and slipped away to the gardens to be by herself. Once the sun rose, Sybil's body was gone, and all that remained were the tears still drying on her mother's cheeks.

A/N: Just the epilogue to go! Please review!


	24. Like Mother, Like Daughter

1926

A/N: Thank you to MH96, Guest reader, Jessiebess, granthamfan and MelodyOfSong526 for reviewing the last chapter.

In Downton village, candlelight illuminated the night sky, banishing every shadow with its golden light, glowing brightly on the pale fresh-fallen snow. On every door was a wreath of holly leaves and ribbon, while every lamppost was wrapped with a garland of ivy and mistletoe. But the most wonderful part of every Yuletide in the village was the sound of the carols drifting from the church, where the sweet symphonies of the choir filled the air.

As the ceremony ended, the villagers retreated back to their homes, to prepare themselves for the morning, when Christmas would dawn and the celebrations would begin. The laughter of the servants from the big house echoed loudly through the air, while Mrs. Patmore threw her new hat, the object of hilarity among them, to the snow-covered ground and sauntered off, followed by a stern-faced Mr Carson.

A small voice joined the chorus of giggles and Cora stared down at the source of the sound with adoration in her eyes. Young Sybbie's fifth birthday had come and gone just a couple of months ago, yet still her grandmother saw her as little more than the babe Robert had cradled at the font. More than that, her smile was inherited from another girl, one who Cora had loved so very much.

"Melancholy?" questioned Mary, clutching little George's hand in her own. She was not teasing, for once in her life, and her face bore the same saddened expression as her mother's did. For a moment, Cora studied the woman's features. She had often been told that daughters would always grow to resemble their mothers; she had never thought it to be true until recently.

"This was always her favourite time of year." responded the elder of the two, as they watched the two children running off down the snow-covered path. She did not need to say to whom she was referring; they had both known without the need for even the exchange of a glance. "She liked how peaceful everything seemed when covered with snow. 'It takes all the problems and covers them with something beautiful', she used to say."

"Well, she was right." Mary sighed, glancing around at the beauty of their surroundings. It was quite a juxtaposition, the wondrous purity of the churchyard and the dreadful sadness concealed beneath the snow. "Looking at this place now, you could hardly imagine who much sadness has filled it over the years."

Knowingly, Cora took her daughter's hand in her own. It was not only Sybil to whom she referred. There was poor Matthew as well, who had crashed his car on the way back from the hospital to see the newborn George; Mary had never been the same since, and though she had learnt to smile and laugh again, there was a weight of sadness in her eyes that would never disappear. '_Just as there is in mine.'_

Feeling the melancholy begin to overwhelm her, Cora sent her eldest daughter ahead with the rest of the family, needing some time to be alone, to gather her thoughts and reminisce. Unthinkingly, her feet guided her to the place where she needed to go, as they had done so many times before.

The stone was half-frozen over with frost, but Cora had seen it on so many occasions that she knew the writing by heart.

_Here lies Lady Sybil Patricia Branson, born Crawley_  
><em>1896-1920<em>  
><em>Beloved daughter, sister, wife and mother<em>  
><em>May she rest in peace<em>

However, as the crunching footsteps and joyful voices faded away, Cora saw that she was not the only one to seek refuge in this peaceful place. There was already a figure knelt beside the grave, a stuffed rabbit clutched tightly in her small hands.

Smiling sadly, Cora knelt down in the snow and laid one arm across the girl's shoulders.

"I just wanted to wish her a happy Christmas." Sybbie explained, holding her rabbit closer. Cora smiled and nodded.

"I wanted to do the same, darling." the older woman agreed. "After all, Christmas is a time for family, and your Mama is still family, even if she isn't here."

Sybbie looked down towards the snow-covered ground, her hair falling in a smooth brown curtain over her face. She was clearly trying to hide her tears, to pretend to be strong. Her mother had always done the same. '_As did I.'_ Cora thought. She wiped a tear from beneath her eye. '_Perhaps I still do.'_

They sat quietly for a long while. How long precisely, neither of them knew; time seemed endless here and fleeting all the same. But the snow had begun to fall more heavily now, clinging to their coats and to Cora's hat, melting into Sybbie's hair and causing her to shiver. Finally, the countess knew that they had to return to Downton.

"Come on now, darling." Cora sighed, standing and brushing some of the flakes from her coat. "It's time to go home."

Sybbie nodded shyly, but did not rise. Instead, she leaned in close to the headstone and planted a kiss on her mother's name.

"Good night, Mama." she whispered. "Happy Christmas."

Then she rose and took her grandmother's hand, and they began to walk away from the graveyard together, back to where the lights were twinkling in the windows of Downton Abbey.

As they walked, Cora turned to little Sybbie and studied her. She was a kind little girl, loving and generous, with a smile that could melt even an icy heart and a stubborn nature that was somehow endearing. '_Perhaps I only find it so,'_ Cora mused. '_Because it reminds me of her mother.'_

She wondered if Sybbie would one day be as much like her mother in looks as she was in nature. Part of her wished she would not, for it would be painful to see a reflection of her own little girl looking back at her each day, but for the most part, she wanted Sybbie to be just like her namesake.

With her chestnut hair and her beautiful eyes, the girl was already beginning to resemble Sybil, just as Sybil had resembled another girl, who had been brought to London decades ago to make an advantageous marriage to an English earl. '_That's the way it's bound to be.'_ Cora told herself, smiling brightly as her home appeared along the gravel drive. '_After all, as they all like to say: Like mother, like daughter.'_

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who's supported this story! You have no idea how much it means to me. Hope you enjoyed the last chapter and please review!


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